The Epitome

A life in rewind

“Babe, I don’t mean to tell you what you already know, but maybe you need some more nutrition, hai na? I know you’re more than capable of eating for two on a good day, but you know you have to do that every day, right now na?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but obediently pulled the plate closer again. “But this is boring food! There’s no taste to this!”

“Haan na, baby, itna teekha tum kha sakti ho, baby thodi khaayegi…”

“Why? I’m sure she’ll love some achaar… Let’s try na?”

He dropped his head into his palm and laughed, “We’ll try tomorrow. For now, eat.”

She grumbled and picked up the spoon, turning towards him for another complaint, but he was too quick.

“Mmm, now you can take your time with your food, and I’ll get a nice nap” he settled comfortably on her extended legs, a pillow between her thigh and his head, “Go on, take your time.”

She sighed, sniggering to herself, and got down to finishing her food.

***

‘The mornings came too quickly these days’ she thought to herself, as she stretched and heard him already putting on his belt. The unmistakable clink of the buckle told her she’d missed the morning banter.

“You’re not coming back in, to bed?”

 He glanced at her in the mirror and smiled at the routine they’d carried on for years “No, sweets, it’s late today. Gym mein thoda zyaada time lag gaya. But I’ll come home early, and we’ll do coffee and Bournvita”

“Can I have beer?”

“Can I first have my baby?”

“Take her now only, she’s a bore, just like you. She wants to go to work.”

“Just like me, or just like you?”

“I’m a lazy ass, you’re the one who won’t come back to bed.”

“Mommy darling, you’re dying to get back to work, and you know it. You’re probably already drafting an intro mail for your daughter and setting her task list up. Okay, I’m off. Kiss?”

“Ew, no! I need to brush.”

He leaned down and kissed her belly, then grinned up at her “I wasn’t asking you.”

She began to laugh.

***

The door opened and his perfume drifted in to her before his voice did. He was on the phone.

“Hunjee, abhi ghar aaya hoon. Just got in.”

She mumbled into her pillow “You can get off the phone now, at least.”

His voice smiled out from her earpiece, and his breath tickled her shoulder “But then I won’t hear your pretty voice say ‘I love you’ over the phone na?”

She growled in response “I love you”

“Okaayy bye…”

His hand was rubbing her back now “What happened, bad day?”

“No. I’m just surrounded by idiots who don’t know their hands from their feet.”

“So, bad day.”

He was making noises with glasses and all.

“No, no! Wait! I’ve made you filter coffee. Thandi hai, bas thodi garam kar do.”

He paused, and turned to her with a frown “Why are you making me coffee at night? Don’t tell me you have work to do yaar…”

She grimaced. He wasn’t going to be happy “Not much… Just a little…”

“Yaar toh din mein kar lete na, why would you leave it for after I get home?”

“Arre abhi shaam ko aaya…”

“So, we’ve talked about this na, why would you take up a project at night?”

“It was important…”

“No yaar, you do your project, then I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.”

He walked off, cup of coffee left on the table, a plate of food in his hand.

“Scoot.”

He looked up at her “Jaldi kaam khatam karo, and sleep. Don’t waste time. Again, you’ll stay up late, and be tired tomorrow.”

“No, I’m done.”

“Done with work?”

“No, work is there, I’ve pushed delivery time to tomorrow evening.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to spend time with my husband. He’s quite sexy, you know.”

***

“Pastels look gorgeous on you”

She stole a side-glance at her almost-husband “You know what a pastel is?”

He nodded, under pretence of straightening his glasses “Like the signal is a green, the pista ice cream is a pastel green; I remember.”

She stifled her laughter as her father gave her a look from across the mandap. Probably not the best time to get in touch with her sense of humour.

“Babe, suno na…”

“Hmm?”

“Aapko mujhe prompt karna padega. I have no idea what anyone is saying. Thoda distracted hoon na. Those pastels and all.”

“Damn it, I was hoping the fam would do that bit. Mujhe ghanta pata hai, what to do…”

They both stopped laughing as the pandit gave them a dirty look this time.

***

“Listen.”

“Hunjee?”

“If I quit my job, pick up my Rani of Jhansi sword and come off to your city, and convince your family, would you seriously consider spending the rest of your life with me?”

“Sure. But where would you get the sword from? And who would pay your rent?”

“Arre that I’ll manage. And rent maane, I’ll take over your business, siphon off funds as expenses, and make it vastly successful within the financial year, so you’ll never find the money taken out.”

“Oh, accha. But market down hai, and regulations are against us.”

“Haan, but I’ll probably pull a Richard Gere from Pretty Woman. Have you seen Pretty Woman?”

“What is the Richard Gere reference, but?”

“You’ve not seen Pretty Woman?”

“I HAVE, I don’t get the Richard Gere reference.”

“Oh. He basically buys big companies that are floundering and sells them off bit by bit.”

“So, you’re buying me out and selling me off?”

“Not you ya. Your company. And I’m not buying, I’m going to seduce you to sign it off to me.”

“You know it’s not really MY company to sign over to you.”

“Older people love me. That’s my concern, not yours.”

“Aight. Let’s see. My signature will come last, if you succeed in the rest.”

“Haan, but then you’ll spend na, rest of life with me? Even if I dissolve the company?”

“Kyun nahi? Raja ban ke jeeyenge.”

“I’m serious.”

“Huh?”

“I’m serious.”

“About?”

“Will you consider marrying me?”

“Babe, we talked about this…”

“I don’t give a fuck. Do you want to?”

“Yes”

“BRB, getting my sword.”

***

 

She packed up his shirt, and his t-shirt. And the note he had sent her when she’d won her major milestone. And the box from the chocolates. And put them all the corner of the cupboard.

The house still resonated with his voice. The city still threw scents of his presence at her. Her phone was strangely lighter now, and her inbox strangely empty. The ding of texts wasn’t as fun to hear anymore.

Maybe it was a coincidence that the rains had started when the final page of their storybook had been turned. Perhaps some lucky little girl in the future would read the child-friendly, happily-ever-after version of their story. Their original story was more like the German old wives’ tale version, with a gruesome ending. At least, it was gruesome for her.

‘It’s not like you’re a mermaid or a secret princess, really, what did you expect?’

She shook her head at her momentary lapse of practicality, and mentally put away the silly flights of fancy away with the clothes and the past few mementos she couldn’t bear to throw away.

Scents fade away faster than people do. But they hurt more. Scents remind you about love in a weird, integral way that kicks you in the gut and lifts you up, at the same time.

The collar, crook of the arm, and mid-torso of the shirt in her hands no longer smelled of him. It no longer reminded her of being engulfed in the protective bubble of their fairy-tale.

***

“Suno na.”

“Hmm…?”

“I think we need to talk…”

#AboutLastNight

Liquid courage, they call it;
A swig is all you need
To take life by the balls
And to chase your dreams.

One swig
And you'll stop being scared
Stop wishing you'd dared
That one time
When you ran away.

It's fight distilled from adrenaline

It's the balls to say what you mean.

Liquid courage
One swig and you're super human;

You're doing stuff they said you can't
You're breaking rules
You never believed in
You're saying words
You rehearsed
A hundred times in front of a mirror.

A sip to remember
That you're the boss
That it's your job
To take charge
Send that mail
And goddammit, ask for that raise!

Your best friend
Leading you to the dance floor
That lying bastard
Who says you're a bomb
When you're probably more a nunchuk
And that REALLY shouldn't be
Your song.

Your wingman
Who hates to see you crash and burn
But knows she's so damn far
Out of your league
That you probably shouldn't even dream of her.
A swig is all it takes

For "Hi, what're you drinking?"

That idiot
Who told you "You have a dream""
"You have a gift
Damn, you should perform your poetry
It really speaks to me"
Except they've been swigging
Pretty damn hard themselves.

Aged for years
With wisdom imbibed from
Oak casks, and brewing tanks
Microscopic bubbles of yeast-fuelled logic
Pushing their way into your mind
Telling you what you already know
Just don't have the impetus to go for.

Liquid fucking courage.
Because for some reason
Without one swig
You have a duty to suppress it
You know what you want
But you're denied it
Flight fights back
Flight comes in first place
While you cower in the back
"Bhai daaru lao..."

Almost There

I’m not perfect and I don’t expect
To really ever be
I have endless flaws but that’s just how
I know to be me
I’m a fighter, undercover
As a quiet soul
Perfection bides away its time
Till it's unleashed upon the world.

I’m not perfect, not even close yet
And I’ll never be
I’m a warrior, undercover
Till something deserves me
It won’t be perfect, I can’t expect
Anything to be
But I’ll fight if I’m convinced I should
And that this fight, I fight for me.

I’m flawed for sure, I can’t deny it
But I’m almost there
The flaws are mine to hold for life
Not something I despair
I’ll find a flaw I can complement
And then things will be perfect
But till then I’m almost there
I’m not perfect yet.

How to Meet New People After Half Your Life is Done

As a product, you're a problem
A long-term investment
No guarantee
Prone to short circuits
And hell for maintenance.

But even the battered defects you own
Have been accepted by some
But when you grow, you meet many more folks
With whom you have to make things work.

Of course, you come with an instruction manual
But that's buried deep in packaging
Which nobody will try to open
Unless you're doing some tagda marketing.

So let's try to make sense
It's an easy enough process;
Just a few steps.

Step one.

Get out of your corner

And try, na, once, to talk?

You’re fun sometimes, you also acknowledge,

So, can a tentative introduction go too wrong?

Step two.

No, don’t run away just yet

You’re human, not on a final shoot for Seinfeld

Don’t let the raised eyebrows daunt you

You’re a star, your new friends should flaunt you

Step three.

Okay maybe that was a lie

Human beings never grew out of the playground

We were annoying little shitheads as kids

And there’s still enough of us around.

Step four.

But remember, you have some friends

And you’re fairly certain they’re going to stay

So maybe take some courage from that

And make the stage fright go away?

Step five.

FYI, they’re really not worth it

You’re not fighting the playground mafia here

You won’t get bullied now, if you don’t find a group

You won’t find that you’re out of the social loop.

Step six.

Who am I kidding?

No, this isn’t a commentary

Imagine, me?

Confident, stage-smart, street-smart, will-talk-to-clients-at-a-meeting

Me?

Commenting on introvert society?

What is this pseudo-sympathy?

So what if my ears are red right now

And my palms are sweatier than the last time?

But honestly

Have you seen those photo-series?

Behind the scenes of perfection?

The background to every airbrushed video?

The “seedy underbelly” of the show?

Did you wonder if that could be true

For people walking all around you?

Because here’s step seven, from behind the scenes.

Weigh your idiosyncrasies

Find which are okay with society

And if you play your cards right

You’re not weird, but quirky.

Which brings us to step eight

Wherein all you can do is wait

To either be found by, or to find

Someone who is of like mind

But this isn’t cause for celebration

Because then things hit new escalations

With step nine, you tread with care

You’re worried just how much to share

You’re mentally flipping through 25+ years

Of complexities, oddities and fears

And as you introduce each one

You’re fully prepped to see them run

Because you’ve watched these oddities take shape

And even you know you’re a little strange.

Step ten is for those lucky ones

From whom the audience didn’t run

Because now you can finally rest

You’re in the presence of one of the best

And you’re free to embark

On the next monumental task.

Step eleven is what we call sustenance.

It’s what forms the basis for everything else

Piece by piece, you build up on

Each step which has come and gone

So your marketing strategy is now in place
You're ready to launch; complete, with game-face...

But did anyone ever bother to ask...

Why do I need to strategize to ensure I get to socialize?
What even, are you offering as a prize?
The right to interact?

Where did it begin to go wrong?
How are we letting this go on?
Who gets to decide
Which person fits, and who is better off on the outside?

May I hazard a step twelve?
I've been using it, and it's treating me well.
Don't bother.
Really, stop.
Why should you market yourself at all?
Especially to just MAKE a friend
Because that's a beginning, and not the end.

Don’t bother with making a case for you.

You’ll find your niche, like back in school

You’ll find that one other little girl

Who finds it fascinating to be in your world

And you in hers, and that’s all you need

Don’t  bother to bring her up to speed.

You’ll find each others’ oddities

Before you find the normalcy

Ideally, one day, we can all move on

And leave the marketing wars to Flipkart & Amazon

Because we're all broken

We're all oddities

Without a return policy

And why shouldn't we be?

Nobody cares what happens to perfection

It will be fine, it's programmed to be

We're all looking at the flawed

Because that is where there will be magic to see.

Falling in Love More Than Once

Love seems to come & go as it pleases
Looks like it listened to you
And those pointless & super cheesy
Dialogues you continue to spew:

"If I don't leave, how will I return?"
A pathetic attempt to soothe the burn
Of the departure I struggle against
Of the long wait that lies ahead.

Until I see you the next time
And all the love comes rushing in
Like the crashing waves of the incoming tide,
A tidal wave set of from within.

I guess it's worth the wait again
Till you find a way back to me
And I fall in love all over again
So many times now, I gave up counting.

Recipe: Breakfast

Two mugs pulled sleepily off their hooks
Fingers fumbling where closed eyes can’t look
To see just where the kettle sits
Deftly concocting the perfect mix
Of coffee, sugar, doodh aur paani
Differing from mug to mug fractionally
Carefully chosen breakfast spread
Of a thousand dips to eat with bread
And then settle down quietly;
Two mugs, sister, toast & me.
The lull before our daily storms
Begin to rage & drag us along.
As a ritual for keeping calm,
Add some judgement, if you want
There’s no one listening in on you
Coffee, food & just you two.
Or three, or four, as per taste
But don’t add too many, or it’s a waste
Of the carefully crafted simplicity
Like with coffee, sister, toast & me.


A friendly tip; for best results, consume this mix repeatedly.

OCD

Routine to see.
Shudders from you
At my style
Which I refuse
To match to yours
Because I’m all odds:
Odd Socks. Odd Laces
Odd Rhymes
Odd Timing
Oddball Furball.

And your structure
Causes torture
Too fixed
Too matched
To match to my desire
For oddities
Among symmetry.

Straining
Against what we are, inherently
Built so differently.
Obsessive in our own degrees;
Your even keel & my extremity
Both out of sorts
With all humanity.

But we’re calmer
When we’re together
Because when two halves make one
They must fit
In symmetry
In equality
And here we agree perfectly
With each other.

Fitting cracks into cracks
Where we both broke
In unison
Where equal hurt
Rests quietly
Complementary
To the capacity
To heal

Till we’re fixed
On one reality
That obsessive-compulsively
We must be
You & Me.

Narrative

You see & I see
Almost exactly the same things
What could be, or may be
But we’re never in sync
You’re half full, I’m empty
And neither of us wins
You say & I say
We see such different things.

What you saw, I missed out
I looked the other way
And by the time you turned around
My frame had already changed.
But this was your world and mine
Not a worldwide release
That you & I saw differently
Was an issue for you and me.
Your truth & mine
No longer what we meant it for
A connection for two
Not a skype call with the world

The world knows what they see
A unit despite disparity
You & I separated
From the common story.
What they read into me
And what they read into you
So different from what we know
So different from our truth.

But who can keep the world away
When they’ve picked their sides?
Now it’s about who saw it right
And picked the winning guy
You saw what I saw
For the first time, aligned
What absolutely could not be
No two ways around this time.
Both glasses half empty
A part empties away
As the world counts their winnings
And our story fades away.

Beating Retreat - An Empty Apology

Do me a favour & let go
Not of the love
Not the love, ever
Let go of the fight
The constant ceasefire
The battle scars,
The lost men,
The open wounds,
Let go!

The constant reminders
Of how we could be better
The recaps, reviews
Let's put it behind us.
The armies are tired
Weary & worn
Battered, bruised
Beaten & torn.

So let the wounds heal
Though the scars remain
Let every heart beat
Wash away the fresh pain
Let the skin stitch
Where we broke it
Let things go back to the flow
Stay away, heartbreak.
Please, just let go.

Asleep

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
When we curl up to block in the heat
When arms touch arms and chest to cheek
New rhythms awaken as we breathe.

I wonder who listens to that new beat
Lungs expanding & contracting peacefully
Fitting into crevices like they were made for me
Arms tightening around you more securely

I wonder who reads my mind just then
And knows what hasn't been spoken
I wonder who slows down time a bit
Without either of us realizing it

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
Who sees me struggle to keep
My eyes shut tight a little longer
Determined that morning will not conquer

I wonder if there's a way that they
They could find a way for us to stay
Undisturbed a little bit
Curled up together just like this.

2016

Why Didn't You Call?

"You know the bald dude? Gandhi? Father of our Nation and whatnot..."
She looked at him, upside down, sitting in the sky next to her, as he sniggered and nodded "Yeah, the bald dude..."
She ignored him "Yeah, him. Did you know he tried all the shit they warn us away from? He ate meat, drank and all, had women, and bro... BRO! He and a friend tried suicide once, too!"
She sat upright, in her excitement, looking at him through the haze and the hair falling into her eyes. He seemed to be tripping on something else completely.
"Hello?"
His eyes snapped back to her, looking at her silently for a second. "They should teach us that shit in schools and all. They teach us that we should be perfect like these people. Discipline, dedication, perseverance, blah, blah... We're programmed to fail and hate ourselves for it."
She stared at his face for a minute, trying to quell the rising urge to tell him things she shouldn't be telling him at all. Her brain wasn't as sharp as it should be, the haze was making it hard to think straight. She shook the cobwebs out, slightly and pulled the easy grimace back to her face. "You're just scared. Not like you haven't taken a chance na..."
He shook his head at her "That's not what I'm saying. Failing is not an option. You can't try and not succeed otherwise the bald dude will be disappointed."
She flopped onto her back, looking at the dim ceiling. "But we know he wasn't a saint. So we're good na? We know the inside story."
She blinked at a sudden shadow over her face "Why're you blocking my light, bro?"
"Move off, shorty, your tiny legs can handle sitting on the ground now. I'm getting cramped."
She squawked as he tipped her off the bed and took her place "You just shook the buzz out of me, you idiot!"
He sniggered at her, enjoying the indignation on her face.


I never expected to be standing here. I'm not sure if not knowing was a good thing or a bad one. I knew myself enough to know that if I'd known it was coming, I would have avoided it like everything else I avoided. One little lie, one quick exit and another evening alone.
Sometimes being alone was a good break, although the social side of me rebelled against it with everything she had. Sometimes I worried that there were too many conflicting parts of me and some day they would pull me into different halves. Today, I stood there, wondering whether I would've canned in this case too. There was more than people and society at stake here... And my brain was too occupied with flashbacks and other disturbing creatures. That night stood out... That was the last time we had chilled like that before life came along and made me this recluse & took him all over the country for things that caught his fancy. He'd made so many points that night which stuck with me, that my aim of staying away from him was basically moot. I ran as far from him as I could, but always ended up returning to that night. I ran through all life's failures keeping that night & its hazy life lessons in mind.
Now, as I snapped between past and present, I couldn't believe where I stood. His six foot something frame used to tower over me, and he took particular pleasure in leaning on his 'minuscule table'...
My mind couldn't imagine how that frame had let him fly like they said he had. How had one measly fitting taken the weight of his height?
How could all that laughter, all that intellect, all that sheer life have been reduced to this? One urn, a handful of dust, and empty space...


Thinking back, if they'd told me that they were bringing me here, I would have made the same old excuses and stayed in my corner. Because in my corner, there was no murderous fan, no tightening curtain, no empty spaces. In my mind, there was that night, and the one moment I let slip. There was a scared girl telling her oldest friend how she felt, and not one with a hollow space echoing with the fateful "What if".

Aaji's Fridge

We're all a bunch of nomads
We don't have roots, we have a family tree
4 daughters, 8 grand-daughters & assorted family
Who all set out to travel as far as could be
Festivals were different wherever we would be
Even the hours moved very differently
Days passed by at different speeds
Reunions became distant dreams
But there's one place we gathered at
One place that remained
Aunts, cousins, husbands cats
One place to which we came

Open the door and take a look
You'll spot all parts of the globe
Work, travel, business & fun
Snapshots from wherever we'd go
Spices sourced from Italy
Saffron straight from Spain
Chocolates from Duty Free
And achaar always remained
We never met all at once
What with work, life, college, kids...
But we still connected somehow
In the interiors of my Aaji's fridge

No matter who, or where they were
We brought back lovely things to eat
Because we knew, once safely stored
They'd be the way the family meets
That fridge is a symbol of the family
Each taste different, each choice unique
Each ready to partake cheerfully
Of the complete insanity

There was always something for you there 

Whoever you were, there would be

Something special just for you 

Included in the mix carefully 

You knew, whenever you rummaged through

You were where you had a right to be

It wasn't just another fridge

It was a tribute to family

I don't know where that fridge will go now
Nor does the machine matter to me
I only wish, somewhere, somehow
We find another excuse to meet
How else will we share the love
What else could we use to bridge
Time zones, people, countries without
The central point of Aaji's fridge?
Where will home-made bhaaji meet
The sinful chocolate of the Swiss
Where else will the fancy Cheese
Meet gharcha loncha in total peace?
Our melting pot is unhooked now
The shelves morose & empty
We'll find another, there's no doubt
And on those shelves, again we'll meet
But the central point will always be
The shelves of my Aaji's fridge
Where we returned religiously
Despite work, life, college or kids.

Space & Time

Millions of hearts flew to Pluto today
A journey of 9 years covered in a moment.
What better way to avoid Heartbreak?
They'll be far away when things end.
It's far enough away to keep them safe
So many Clark Kents to populate
Hopefully they'll return one day
Super-hearts that just love and never break
For now, there's a sinking emptiness
A feeling of approaching doom
I can see my world coming to an end
I can feel the pull away from you
The room stretches and morphs around us
The few feet are now so much more
Memories don't fade, your voice echoes
My heart's better off sent to Pluto

Climax

She fell back against her pillow, exhausted.
She had to take a few deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart, each breath escaping her lungs as a sigh. Lying in the comfort of her sheets, she closed her eyes, reliving the past hour or so, smiling at the memories, revelling in the complete satisfaction engulfing her.
"What a workout..." She whispered, her eyes still closed, "nobody prepares you for this stuff."
He had really pushed her to her limits, taking her to heights she didn't know she could reach. It had all escalated so fast, she still couldn't believe it. When her phone had buzzed, she had no idea it was the start of something so... "Phenomenal..."
She grinned to herself, aware that she was shamelessly boosting his ego, but she knew it was equally her contribution.
They had both been giver and taker, alternating seamlessly, supporting each other without needing to say anything. Like he'd read her mind, he had responded to every cue in fairytale fashion. And she'd loved having a hand in his responses, knowing that the increasingly intense reactions, the new responses, the involuntary reactions they had both experienced were what they had created together.
She replayed their conversation in her head, from the first message to the last, laughing at all the bad jokes, heart-rate increasing at every new level of intellectual stimulation and marvelling at his skill with words.
"Who knew a random conversation about nothing could be this intense an experience?" She murmured to herself, unlocking her phone to read the chat again.
He had the disconcerting skill of taking a simple chat conversation to dizzying heights. Which was why she was so hooked to him. It was a rush so much more potent than flirting, so much more real than sex; talking to him made her brain work on overdrive. It wore her out like no physical encounter could, nobody had made her feel this alive before, nothing had ever made verbal sparring this... Memorable.
"And the best part? It's all virtual... No expectations from this... No 'will he, won't he'..."
Chat over, end of story...
She flopped back into bed, smiled at the chat window once again before keeping her phone away, turning the lights off and sleeping an unparalleled sleep.

Respite

Days come, and go away
Every day, that's how it stays
The monotonous expanse of
Day after day,
Today, tomorrow and possibly yesterday
But there's a difference, a little change
Between today and yesterday

When the sun sets on the monotony
And lights go on in the city
Suddenly, there's life
Where monotony used to be.

No longer lost in the glaring
The staring light of the nearest star
Dreams shimmer in the dusk
Shake off the day's dust
Beckoning to you, and you must
Respond

Because what else can you do?
When the promise of distraction
The brief respite of delusion
The break from the everyday
Calls you towards it?

The nights are the real deal
Where else lies the appeal of a world
Away from the drudgery
Of monotony?

My nights are mine to revel in
They're for imagining and  dreaming
They're stripped of logical reasoning
My nights are for me
To hope that I'm the dream that he
Goes to bed to see.

Borders

I drew a line.
For trespassers,
Prosecution
You drew a line.
A layer,
Semipermeable.
Everyone has lines
Different lines, different rules
Boxing them in.
You hold them at a line's length
A box away.
But the world grew smaller
And smaller
And smaller still
Till there was no line's length
No boxes
Till we knew all our neighbours
We saw each other
Unrefracted
Through personal bubbles.

Story-Teller

He held the power to weave spells.
He didn't look like much, on the get-go, in fact, seemed like a mousy nerd-type.
But it was when he began to speak that I met her. She's the spell he creates, every time the same one.
She's got piercing eyes that look right into your soul, they build bridges from his soul to yours, actually. She laughs a lot, a sound that makes you wonder why his words are so sad.
Her hair, that's what gives her away. She looks like the girl next door, until you notice her hair. Her hair is shiny and straight, bobbed just under her left ear, and extending in gradually increasing lengths till it nearly touches her right shoulder.
That's her personality, the surprise of an offbeat haircut.
It's the lurking danger of a forest fire on a calm summer afternoon.
That's the reason he's got volumes of emotion to convey.
She's brilliant, as is he. And together, they were as much a perfect fit as they were mutually poisonous.
He knows she exists. I know I'm not the only once who can see her.
She floats around him, chuckling softly at his funnier lines, leaning against him when it gets emotional, and once, when he performed a poem I'll never forget, she stood next to him, holding his hand, all through.
He talks to her, and this is why; even though I've never met her, even though I suspect I'm smitten just hearing about her through his verbal assault on my senses, seeing how he is because of her, I hate her.
He weaves spells for us to get swept along with, so that nobody notices that this is the time he spends only with her.
He'll walk away, thunderous applause following him, oblivious to everything as she leads him, fading a little with every step.
He knows she's not really there, she's walked out of his life a long time back. He knows that it's his heartache to bear. He knows that she's living her life somewhere, laughing that laugh, hiding her volatility better, with a new haircut, new people in her life, with a new life.
He needs to write, needs to feel, needs to be there, on that stage, because if he fails to, she'll never return.
And so he'll be back.
Grinning at us all, making us ache for reasons unknown to us.
Because she'll be back, then. She'll hold his hand.

Shadow

Ever tried and failed to forget someone? Here's what that's like...

Out Of Sight

Not a shirt on my back, the song runs
It's like a cruelly worded pun
Now that I'm out of sight.

You had said it's not the end
Said we'd meet again
Said this was not what we began for
Said our road would run on longer.
I believed in your poetry
Had no doubts about sincerity
Till you showed me that out of sight was truly
A mark less to tally...